


Fuse

by PunkHazard



Category: Wolf 359 (Radio)
Genre: Gen, Pre-Canon
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-02
Updated: 2018-12-02
Packaged: 2019-09-05 13:53:03
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,137
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16811932
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PunkHazard/pseuds/PunkHazard
Summary: "Long story short," Kepler says in conclusion to his latest anecdote about the time he'd rigged an election in southern Arkansas, "I willnothave my right hand man attend this fundraiser in a double-breasted jacket with his tie in afour-in-hand."





	Fuse

"Long story short," Kepler says in conclusion to his latest anecdote about the time he'd rigged an election in southern Arkansas, "I will _not_ have my right hand man attend this fundraiser in a double-breasted jacket with his tie in a _four-in-hand._ "

Jacobi looks up, meeting the Major's eyes in the mirror as he fastens, undoes, and re-fastens the top button of his jacket. "There's another way to do my tie?" he asks, sounding as much confused as agitated. That might be something he should have learned from his father, who had attended several gatherings in full military dress, but he'd never paid much attention to Daniel's choice of neckwear once the latter had made it clear that the military life was out of his reach.

Kepler sighs, but he's smiling, exuding his usual cool, steely authority. "Jacobi," he says, beckoning him with an idle crook of his finger. "I understand that this mission isn't within our usual parameters, so I'll keep it short: Get over here."

They've holed up in the hotel across the street from the location of the fundraiser itself, booking a small room with decent lines of sight over the roomier suite that they would've otherwise happily put on the company card. Guests are already arriving, but SI-5 hadn't planned to show up on time anyway.

Jacobi obligingly navigates across the room, stops in front of the major and holds still while Kepler pulls his tie loose and slips it off, over his head, brows furrowed in concentration as he undoes the knot and pulls the light blue silk through his hand, smoothing the material. Precisely measuring the narrow end, Kepler slings the tie back around Jacobi's neck and loops it into a sturdy full windsor. "Now," he says, pulling it just ever-so-slightly too tight and straightening his collar, "that's more like it."

"How cute," laughs Maxwell from her perch by the window. "Like father and son."

"How come you're not fixing Maxwell's?" Jacobi complains, immediately fidgeting at the restrictive material. His hands pause at Kepler's sharp look, then drop away at the expectant quirk of a perfectly groomed brow. The major's in an indulgent mood; it doesn't mean he'll make allowances for Jacobi immediately undoing his work.

" _Dr. Maxwell_ has chosen the appropriate tie for her outfit," Warren drawls, turning toward the open suitcase on his bed and slipping some sort of Goddard-patented debilitation device into a holster under his jacket, "and doesn't require my input."

Jacobi glances across the room, begrudgingly acknowledging that Alana looks _great_ in a lean-cut, flattering black suit, sporting a skinny red tie. She's lounging easily in the loveseat by the window, careful not to wrinkle the outfit. It's a far cry from her usual white-labcoat-over-beige-jumpsuit getup, and she looks just as comfortable in it as Kepler does in his own formalwear. "That's a first," Jacobi mumbles. 

"Say that again?"

Daniel chalks the fact that he hadn't immediately been told to shut up to Kepler's cheery mood. Must be the holiday season. Maybe he'd had some Balvenie in his eggnog. "Just not sure how having a PhD in machine computations means she's a qualified fashionista, sir."

"I _do_ have other hobbies, Mr. Jacobi." Maxwell doesn't even take it personally (she never does), amused as she is to see him so out of his depth. "And my good friend Google."

Increasingly wary, Jacobi re-secures the tools strapped to his ankle, fingers brushing against the coin-sized explosives sewed into the lining of his jacket as he straightens. His own design: a powerful blast contained in a small enough radius to blow a hole through solid steel six inches thick. Self-adhesive. "Are you _sure_ I have to be inside?" he asks. "I can't just sit in the white van with my finger on the button?"

"Please," says Kepler, his expression patient. "All those charges under your jacket aren't going to plant themselves." He's on a _project_ , a mission that would be better served by humoring Jacobi instead of pulling him forcefully back on track. After all, Daniel had been perfectly gung-ho about completing this assignment right up until he'd been informed that they'd be infiltrating this party together. Warren had thought that it might be a welcome break, some fun for the crew to dress up and eat hors d'oeuvres with billionaires and supermodels for a night, but he hadn't expected resistance from his second. 

"What about this?" Jacobi asks, finally, rubbing his neck along the splash of scar tissue that covers it, his eyes downturned. "Think I should cover up? Feel like it might draw some attention if we're gonna be partying with all these celebrities, and whatnot." 

Kepler blinks. "Is that what was concerning you this _whole time_ , Jacobi?"

"I mean," says Jacobi, and then he shrugs. 

Warren's not usually in the position of having to balance Jacobi's issues against his ability, and in _all fairness_ he'd provoked this. He could've just as easily ordered Jacobi to suck it up and the man would've proceeded without so much as a peep, so Warren takes a moment to be unreasonably upset with Daniel for having insecurities despite being the single best explosives specialist SI5 has or ever will employ, and swears to himself never to entertain this sort of nonsense ever again.

He narrows his eyes, jaw clenching as he inhales.

"I think," Maxwell cuts in, her voice bright as she stands and steps between them, turning Jacobi physically back and forth before smoothing his lapel and fixing his pocket square, "it adds a rugged appeal. You look great, Daniel." 

Jacobi shakes his head. He scoffs, fighting back a grin. "Sure."

She's been on the team for a grand total of five weeks and proven her worth many times over. She had not, up to this point, shown any indication of also being an agent-whisperer. They both turn to look at Kepler, expectant, this brief hiccup neatly packed up and put away as if it had never happened, just the way Warren likes it. 

"Well," he says, mildly dumbfounded at the ease with which Alana had defused the situation, "so do I. You'll be turning heads tonight, and that's exactly what we want until Dr. Maxwell takes out the lights and you can get to work."

He straightens his cuffs, steps around the roll-away cot hotel staff had set up for them earlier in the week, and pulls open the door. 

"Never been called _rugged_ before," says Jacobi, but he falls into step on Kepler's left, flanking him. Maxwell joins them on the major's right, already tapping away at her phone to pull up their forged invitations. "Cute, sure," Daniel continues, clearly enjoying the way Alana's eyes immediately roll toward the ceiling, a smile tugging on the corners of her lips. "Handsome, obviously. But rugged? I kinda like it."

**Author's Note:**

> hey has everyone seen [@schwarzbrot's](https://twitter.com/borzoi_ebooks/status/1060658635364319232) designs for SI-5 cause..................... good stuff


End file.
